Hitman: The Life
by JonDoe297
Summary: The Hitman is born. After escaping from an undisclosed location, Subject 47 becomes a contract killer and begins a quest to discover who he really is...
1. Prologue - The Awakening

_Hitman: The Life…_

**Prologue**: The Awakening

Agent 47 awoke. As his eyes flickered open he found that his arms and legs were strapped to an iron hospital bed. He tried to stand but the straps were firmly tightened. His cold blue eyes scanned the dark room he had awoken in, looking for any nearby objects he could use to escape. He lay quietly for a few minutes and calmly assessed the situation. The bed was positioned in the middle of the room, roughly six feet from each wall. From what he could see, the room's walls were made of padding and apart from the bed he lay strapped to, there were no other objects in the room. His first instinct was to rock the bed from side to side but soon realized that there was no point as the bed was obviously embedded or firmly attached to the ground. He knew there was nothing he could do but wait in the darkness of the room, wondering what was going to happen, and if his "brothers" were experiencing the same treatment.

47 was unsure if it was hours or minutes that had passed until the lights in the concrete room finally turned on. It took a few moments for the Agent's eyes to adjust to the change in lighting and for him to notice that the straps around his arms and legs had considerably loosed. He slowly sat up for what felt like the first time and looked around the room in search for anything he hadn't noticed before the light had been turned on. The only thing of interest was a wooden chair in the corner of the room, on top of which lay what appeared to be a black suit. 47 heaved himself up, flinching as his bare feet made contact with the freezing floor, and took a few steps towards the chair. He noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the top left breast pocket of the blazer and carefully unfolded and read the handwritten note inside.

A Gift…

47 looked down at the black suit. He identified it as Italian, consisting of a 2 button jacket with notch lapels, a pair of double pleated trousers - both of which were in black, black leather gloves, a white dress shirt and a red silk tie with gold stripes. Black socks and a pair of well-polished black shoes completed the ensemble. Agent 47 was unsure of what to make of the "gift" and was worried that he would be put in isolation for accepting it. However, he eventually decided that if the guards hadn't wanted him to have the suit they wouldn't have allowed it to have been delivered to him. He changed as quickly as he could, worried that a guard would come in and catch him, but had some trouble remembering how to do a tie; eventually managing to assemble something of the sort. So far confused at what was happening, 47 heard a sudden click and then the sliding of the bolts in the door being unlocked. As the door slowly swung open a warm draught of air drifted inside, making the Agent realize how cold the room really was. He peered around the door and having not seen or heard anything or anyone from outside, decided it was safe to step out into the corridor.

The marble corridor consisted of dim green lighting and pale coloured walls. It was eerie and seemed desolate, even by 47's standards. He couldn't help but be suspicious that the door to the cell had just unreasonably opened, as well as the fact that not one single guard was on patrol. He took caution as he stealthily walked the corridors. His only priority now was to escape, something he tried several times towards accomplishing. He reached the elevator and pressed the service button, resulting in the loud groaning noise as the old elevator rose to his floor. After waiting patiently in the darkness for a few moments to make sure no one exited, 47 stepped inside and observed the many buttons. His immediate attention fell on the one conveniently marked "Surface Access" but as the Agent's eyes scanned the panel he noticed another room that took his interest. "Weapons Hall & Shooting Range" 47 stared at both buttons for a few moments and then quickly tapped it. The elevator complied with his demand of destination and began slowly sinking downwards, the groaning noise echoing throughout the complex.

It didn't take long for 47 to reach the designated floor, and on arrival he quickly darted out into the shadows. But, as he expected, the range was empty. 47 stepped out from the shadows and slowly walked down the aisle of the shooting range. On his left were exactly forty seven separate shooting areas; while on his right, closely spaced racks of weapons took up the whole sixty foot long wall, all grouped by category, and labelled appropriately. Ammunition, accessories, and cleaning gear were stored below the firearms in stainless steel cabinets. However, none of these weapons favoured 47. Unlike most of his "brothers", he preferred the tactics of silence and deception in order to complete the tasks he was instructed to perform.

The tall suit-wearing man made his way to the 47th shooting range area – his area – and ran his gloved fingers against the brick wall to the right of his range. The gloved hand closed around a loose brick which he carefully pulled out and placed on the desk in front of him. He then extended his hand inside the gap and extracted two AMT Hardballers, equipped with silencers. 47 held them protectively in the palms of his hands, blowing the dusty dried cement off of them. Having christened the weapons Silverballers because of their pearl handles, 47 used them for taking out targets up close and sometimes at long distance, with a suppressor to ensure he remained undetected. Knowing that if he ever found himself in a tight situation, however, he could always rely on the extra fire-power of dual Silverballers to neutralize the threat and escape. The guns had immediately become his signature weapons, which was why he had ingeniously hidden them in the makeshift hideaway so that no one else could use or steal them.

47 placed them on the desk and retrieved the second weapon from the hideaway. A medium sized strand of a non-metallic fibre wire which was complete with handles, allowing him to apply all of his strength into pulling it tightly around his victim's neck, effectively crushing their windpipe. This eliminated any chance of a possible scream or yell being released by the victim. The only requirement being that he had to quietly approach from behind to apply the deadly technique, but once the agent had a grasp, death was certain. 47 slipped the tool into his inside right blazer pocket and then searched the room for a two-gun shoulder-holster rig. He soon found one in one of the many stainless steel cabinets and slipped his arm into it, before attaching his two Silverballers and putting his blazer back on again. The suit perfectly concealed all his weapons, and with a quick adjust of his tie he made his way back to the elevator and pressed the button marked "Surface Access". Time to escape, he decided.

The journey to the surface took longer than expected. The Agent had never realized how far below ground he really was. When the elevator finally reached the surface and he heard the peculiar chime as the doors slid open, he darted out into the hallway and crouched for a few minutes behind a large wooden chest of drawers. 47 waited in the darkness of the hallway for a few moments to make sure the coast was clear. Would he be severely punished for trying to escape, or would they just kill him this time? It didn't matter, he wasn't going back… not now. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a sliding motion. The Agent turned and found that the elevator had disappeared and in its place found nothing but the green wallpapered wall which ran along the hallway. This was when 47 really acknowledged the fact that he was escaping, really escaping. As he descended down the hallway he felt the feeling of an ounce of liquid lead sloshing around his stomach and realized that his hands were shaking. He reached a brightly lit room and noticed that a plaque on the side of the wall said 'Recepție' which he translated as Romanian for reception. He looked around the room and after double and triple checking that there was no one in the 'Recepție' he made a dash for the door. His hands closed around the handle and he pushed downwards. Then it happened: the door opened. He was free…


	2. The Kowloon Triads Gang War

**Chapter 1**: The Kowloon Triads Gang War

A Year Later…

**Monday, 10th July 2000**

Agent 47 woke with a jump and subsequently smashed his arm on the bedside table. He swore as the pain came a few seconds later and slowly rose from the hard stone floor, placing his Silverballers on the bed next to him. He was well aware of the fact that if a counterassassin forced his hotel door open, the first thing they would do would be to put a few slugs into the bed. So, rather than run that risk, he slept on the floor where an intruder's first shot would miss him, as well as the fact that he physically couldn't fall asleep in a bed.

The pale bald man drifted over to the window and pulled back the shutters. Pigeons that had roosted on his windowsill for the night scattered at the sight of him, and flew down to the busy streets of Hong Kong to claim their breakfast from the rubbish bins of nearby restaurants. 47 located his Audemars Piguet, Royal Offshore Wristwatch, which he had left on the bedside table and checked the time. 6:00 exactly, just like normal. He couldn't understand the logic behind why he always woke up a couple of minutes before six o'clock, only knowing that the time was permanently imprinted in his head. The agent retraced his steps around the foot of the bed to the far side, where there was barely enough space for him to complete his morning exercises. The hard tiled floor was far from clean but 47 just ignored the fact. After a hundred push-ups, two-hundred sit-ups, and the rest of regimen he entered the bathroom, one Silverballer in hand, and placed it on the top of the toilet tank where it was within easy reach.

After taking a quick shower and cleaning his perfect white teeth, 47 dabbed his body dry with a scratchy towel and caught a quick glance of the tattooed barcode on the back of his head in the bathroom mirror. He ran his fingers against it, listing the numbers 640509-040147. He had no memory of ever getting the tattoo. As a matter of fact, he had no memory of any of his life prior to the last eleven months or so. Practically only knowing the name, Agent 47 - if you could consider it one. He guessed that he may have a concussion or something of the sort. He had wanted to tell someone about his memory loss, but had no one to tell. Besides, telling people about your life was extremely risky when you followed the line of work he did.

Suddenly a beeping noise from the bedroom interrupted him. Soon identifying it as an incoming message from his laptop, 47 forgot about his thoughts and quickly finished drying himself. He wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom carrying the Silverballer at his side. The half-naked man pulled the armoured suitcase out from under the bed and after deactivating the built-in security system, lifted the laptop out and placed it on a small wooden table just beside the window. He switched the laptop on and waited patiently until a screen displaying a green image appeared. It was triangular; a skull and crossbones topped by a crown was inside the pyramid, the Latin phrase Merces Letifer scrolled across the bottom.

'Lethal Trade'

Underneath the logo of his employer was an ID Registration requirement. The operative typed in his number of BRO3886 and waited until his registration was verified. The screen flickered into his message board and he clicked on the most recent briefing. The message revealed detailed information about an assassination that was going to take place later that day. An assassination that he was going to perform.

Agent 47 had been working as an assassin for the past seven months. He had been discreetly contacted by a woman named Diana Burnwood who informed him about a division in the government called the International Contract Agency, a global conglomerate of hitmen and professional assassins, whose services were extended to wealthy and influential customers around the world. Diana had personally gained authority for him to work for them, but when asked how she had found him and why she had unreasonably hired him she replied that she had been given direct orders from the management of the company to recruit him and that she herself was as confused as he was. Although being overall suspicious about The Agency, 47 knew that he needed the money and decided to work for the ICA.

He received contracts via his laptop, all emailed to him by Diana, who became his handler once he had become an actual employee in the organisation. But because of the agent's relatively new employment he hadn't been given many rewarding contracts yet, much to his annoyance. Having informed Diana that he wanted a higher paying contract, he was flown to Hong Kong and told to wait for instructions on what his next assignment would be. And as 47 clicked on the new message left by Diana, he found out…

Enclosed in this download you will find information about your mission:

Good Morning, Agent 47, and welcome to Hong Kong,

As prior to your last request, the Agency has given us a higher paying contract this time around - although please note that the stakes are much higher now…

Your mission in Hong Kong will be fairly complicated. The ultimate target is a Triad criminal mastermind named **Lee Hong**. He is too well guarded and even if you succeeded in eliminating him, chances are that you would not get out of Hong Kong alive. I have prepared a plan that will make Lee Hong lose his influence outside his mansion.

I will get back to you when you have completed your first mission.

Good luck,

**Diana Burnwood**** - ****Handler, The Agency**

Mission Details

The two most powerful Triads in Hong Kong, the Red Dragon and the Blue Lotus, have arranged a meeting in Chiu Dai Park. The leader of the Red Dragon Triad, Mr Lee Hong, has sent his Chief Negotiator to deal with the Blue Lotus Triad. Assassinating **Hong's Chief Negotiator** could trigger a war between the Blue Lotus and the Red Dragon. The target has a traditional Red Dragon insignia on the back of his jacket. However take note that because of the dangerous nature of his business, he is very paranoid and will flee at the slightest hint of trouble. He will be dropped off by members of the Red Dragon, and will then meet up with the Blue Lotus Negotiator inside the park to discuss business at precisely 11:00 am. This is when you should kill him. I'll leave how up to you…

Target Main Details

Name: Ichiro Lee

Occupation: Gang Negotiator

Place of Birth: China

Gender: Male

Height: 5' 10"

Age: 34 Years

Status: Priority, 1C - Kill Order Approved

Operative assigned: Agent 47

The last piece of information 47 was given was a map of the area around the park. The operative examined it for a few minutes and soon decided that the best way to kill the negotiator was to snipe him using his excellent marksman skills, from the rooftop of one of the many buildings nearby. After a few more references to the map and using his endless knowledge of statistics and unrealised experience, he found the best position to be the roof of an apartment building west of the park. He had recently purchased a Blaser R93 Tactical Sniper Rifle from the Agency because of one of the previous assassinations he was assigned, and had brought it with him to Hong Kong. He turned off the laptop, placed it back inside the armoured briefcase and after resetting the built-in security systems, slid it under the bed. He then, feeling slightly colder now, opened his wardrobe revealing his black suit hanging in pristine condition.

A few minutes later 47 stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his newly made red and gold tie, which he could now form perfectly. He noticed that one of his shoes was slightly scuffed. A quick buff put it right. The assassin took great pleasure in what he wore. After all, there were so few things in the world he did enjoy. With his tall stature, sleek bald head, and an enigmatic barcode on the back of his head, the assassin was indeed a striking figure. He reached into the wardrobe again and extracted a brown briefcase. Inside, his German made Sniper Rifle lay dissembled, ready to be used for the assassination that was going to take place within the next few hours. Agent 47 exited his motel room, checked that the hallway was clear before quickly kneeling down and assembling a spit-welded, nearly-invisible thread across the doorjamb, before placing a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign over the door handle. The agent then rose and calmly walked down to the parking lot, carrying his briefcase at his side.

Agent 47 drove a black, Agency-loaned Subaru Legacy, which was still parked just down the stairs from his motel room. Rather than look out of place, as some might expect an assassins car, the sedan wasn't even the most expensive vehicle in the lot. That honour went to a white Escalade parked a few doors down. 47 reached for the keys inside his blazer pocket and quickly unlocked the trunk of the car and placed the sniper rifle briefcase inside, before getting in himself.

Finding a place to have breakfast wasn't exactly difficult. Each road housed at least twenty rivalling restaurants, each offering different kinds of food delicacies. 47 had been intrigued to try Chinese food, having no known food preference. Within the hour he sat in a crowded eatery called 'The Kowloon City', examining the menu listing many different types of food, some which took his fancy, others not so much. He settled for a plate of "bings", meaning a plate of pancakes as well as a cold glass of milk. After overall enjoying his meal he paid the bill and left the restaurant.

As the assassin made his way back to the Subaru he checked his watch for the time - 8:39. The contract wasn't set to take place for at least another three hours, but having nothing else to pass the time, he returned to his car and began what he predicted would be an easy drive to the Chiu Dai Park. He was wrong. Having never visited Hong Kong before, he had completely underestimated the traffic in the city. It took him just under two hours to get to the park, fifteen minutes of which was spent trying to find somewhere to park his car. He originally had wanted to pull up directly outside the apartment building from which he was going to snipe from, but when he found practically every street in a three block radius was gridlocked, he decided that his only option was to park where he could and take the risk of walking further than expected. If he was spotted, it gave him a better chance of getting lost in the crowds. But the only way that could happen was if he missed, and he wouldn't allow that.

47 stepped out of the car and retrieved the briefcase from the trunk; double locked it before crossing the road and calmly walking to the apartment building. He checked his watch. 10:24, giving him roughly half an hour to get to the top of the apartment building and set up the rifle.

On his arrival he realised that the park was slightly bigger than he had expected. He decided to cross through it to make his journey shorter. As he passed two young children playing on the swings and an elderly couple feeding the ducks, he noticed how happy people were. He hadn't understood why such small things such as parks made people happy. He had often wondered why he hadn't felt happy when going to such places, only feeling awkward and exposed. He had always ended his thought with the fact that different people liked different things, and subsequently he didn't like anything. Well, other than killing, this seemed to fulfil something inside him.

Once he had cut through the park, the apartment building he had decided to snipe from was just across the street. It was an old building with undoubtedly very few people inside during the day. It had a fire escape stairwell on the east side, easy for him to use to get to the roof. He carefully crossed the road, avoiding oncoming traffic and headed down the alleyway. There were a few rats chewing on bits of rubbish, which had evidently fallen out of the overflowing rubbish bins. Some scattered as he walked past but most just continued eating their meals. He found the old rusty fire escape and began to make his way up to the roof.

The rooftop housed only a few air conditioning fans. No one was up there, which 47 was grateful for.

The agent worked quickly now. Making his way over to the brick wall which ran around the edge of the rooftop, he opened the briefcase and began to assemble the rifle. The weapon was just over twenty five inches long, leaving plenty of room for the silencer and extra magazines. The first five-round clip was already seated so all the assassin had to do was work the bolt and bring the finely tuned weapon up to his shoulder. He rested his head against the cheek piece and after placing the bipod on the top of the brick wall, crossed his legs comfortably so that he could absorb the recoil and wouldn't fall over backwards when he fired the shot.

With only a few minutes until the meeting, the agent ran a quick check list, including wind velocity and if the silencer was fully attached; although given the noise from the street below he very much doubted anyone would be able to tell where the shot had come from. And as Agent 47 inched the highly effective aperture iron telescopic sight over the park and spotted the Blue Lotus Negotiator. The Lee Hong assassination was about to be put in motion.

The Blue Lotus' Negotiator was an old gentleman, wearing a light blue robe. He looked odd to 47, wearing such clothing; however no one in the park gave him a second glance and some people even turned away from him and walked in the opposite direction, obviously knowing that the man belonged to one of the Triads. The man sat down on a wooden bench, just beside the fountain in the middle of the park and sat patiently for the Red Dragon's Negotiator to arrive.

The Red Dragon was late, which meant that 47's assassination was late, but this couldn't be helped. The target didn't arrive until five minutes later, stepping out of an expensive dark red BMW. Lee wore a leather jacket with a dragon insignia on the back and had what appeared to be a red bandanna around his head. The obvious gang-car that had dropped him off sped away, disobeying several road laws in the process, leaving their negotiator to walk into the park and meet the Blue Lotus' emissary who still sat waiting. With a surprisingly friendly handshake both negotiators sat down and began to talk business.

The heavily silenced rifle coughed and gave the assassin a solid nudge as the 7.62 NATO round left the barrel. The slug struck Ichiro in the back of the head, passed through his brain at a downward angle and blew his face off as it exited. Gore splattered the beautiful fountain and everyone nearby either fell to the floor for cover, or in the case of a business woman who was walking passed, started screaming. The old Blue Lotus negotiator sat paralysed on the bench; staring at the dead man's body he'd just been discussing protection and smuggling rackets with. Agent 47 however, was doing fairly more. Having confirmed the kill, the assassin ejected the spent casing, caught it in mid-air and placed it inside his blazer pocket. He then disassembled the rifle, slotted it into the briefcase and after kicking some gravel over the location he'd sniped from, made his way down the fire escape.

The agent slowed down when he reached the crowded street, full of people who had no idea that a dead man lay nearby. The operative walked the three blocks to his car, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to check if he was being followed – he wasn't, and after reaching his car, placing the briefcase in the passenger front seat and starting the ignition, he began to look forward to the pay he would receive when he got back to his motel room.

On his arrival at the motel he approached the building carefully, checking that the spit-welded sting was still intact. It was still there. A good sign. But knowing how dangerous assumptions could be, the man took the extra precaution of getting a firm grip around one of his Silverballers in his blazer pocket before he turned the key.

It was cool inside the dimly lit room, and a quick check of the bathroom was sufficient to confirm what Agent 47 had already sensed, that everything was the way he had left it.

Duty demanded that he uploaded a full report to The Agency, so after a quick swig of bottled water he'd left in the fridge, 47 turned on the laptop, entered his ID Registration and typed up a report of what had happened. "Mission Success" sussed up the whole operation, so it was all he wrote. Diana replied immediately and informed him that his money was being transferred and that she'd contact him with the next mission when it was ready to be put in place. After checking he'd been paid the $13.000 dollars, 47 was forced to sever the link. Doing so always left him feeling cut off, but such was his fate, and it was shared by anyone who practised his trade…


End file.
